WEEK 3- PROVENCE (EXTENDED) EXCURSION

A weekend away to the South of France, far from the bustling city life I’ve been learning the ropes for, sounded like a vacation within a vacation. I thought this to myself. I was sat in the hotel lobby, feeling warmer than usual with that familiar discomfort/unease beginning to harbor inside. And also wallowing in what I like to call “sick-person-grudge,” peeved at whoever caused my current state of health. I turned my dimmed attention to the television on the wall opposite to me. Using my intermediate French, I roughly translated the headlines of the news program. Something horrible had happened in Marseille at a train station, 2 young women stabbed to death. Photos of police and military guarding the scene of the crime were shown in routine succession as more information surfaced. I was a bit puzzled at the situation considering that we were supposed to head back to Paris in a couple hours. I knew Marseille was not too far from where we were in Aix-en-Provence. Some concern ignited at the realization of this fact, but I just hoped for the best. Arriving at our place of departure, we found ourselves stuck in heavy traffic. The train station was plenty in people but signs of an actual train were nonexistent. After unloading our bags off the bus, we stood outside the station among the masses of awaiting passengers. I just had a feeling the attack at Marseille had something to do with it. And I was right, all the trains going to and from the South was temporarily suspended due to the tragedy. We ended up heading back to a hotel in Aix that evening. I spent that night in Aix with friends eating at a local noodle joint and then going to a bowling alley less than a few meters away from the hotel. It was a pleasant and joyous night as we played billiards, shared drinks, danced, and laughed many hearty laughs. And it was wild to think that such a night would not have happened had it not been for the incident in Marseille. It was a sobering thought. And I felt so humbled and grateful for my life in that moment. Even more so the next morning upon receiving news of the Las Vegas mass shooting. Tomorrow is never guaranteed and that fact isn’t going to change. Prior to this trip, a considerable amount of people warned me about the terrorism and danger I would risk during my stay in France. But the truth is, no place is ever really safe. I knew people who were at that festival where the shooting occurred; closer to danger than I was to the stabbing in Marseille. We can never anticipate such danger in life, we can only choose to hug our loved ones a little tighter and revel each day we are so graciously given to live out. Though my stay in Provence was absolutely wonderful and relaxing, it was also so much more than that. It was a sort of awakening and pointed awareness of my mortality in another place besides my home in the U.S.A. I’m back in my Parisian apartment now and I ponder the events of this past weekend during the moments before sleep. I give my thanks for the life I get to live (in Paris!) and fall asleep with all the gratitude in the world- hoping to see the light of the beloved Parisian morning.

WEEK 2- MANAGING THE METRO

The incessant, horn-like blaring can incite impatience, as I have experienced while waiting for the doors of the metro car to close so we can get on with our day- speeding closer to the destination. But the same sound can stir a small panic, as I have experienced while hurriedly walking across the platform only to be met with the automatic doors officiating my separation- and tardiness. The metro is a beautiful place, really. All worries of speeding tickets, traffic jams, and falling asleep on the wheel after a long day… gone! You’re actually, quite literally, under the traffic that goes madly on above. There’s not much of a scenic view to stare off into while riding the metro but you can glance into the sea of people that will likely surround you on your commute. It’s quite overwhelming to think about all the people who ride the metro every single day, you’re guaranteed new encounters with people from all around the world. And you’re likely to be inches away from them, a concept quite taboo in American culture. In my experience so far, it hasn’t been much of a discomfort since such invasion of personal space is completely normal for others. It’s all temporary anyways, everyone is there one minute and gone the next. I will admit, there have been a few times where it seems that certain metro cars were utterly stained with the stink of warm, body odor. That’s probably the only thing I wish I didn’t have to submit myself to when riding the metro, luckily, my brain acts fast to decrease the intense perception of such smell. Nonetheless, the metro is cornerstone to Parisian life, and now mine too!

WEEK 1- ADJUSTMENT & HOMESTAY

“Parlez-vous anglais?” I was at the mercy of the man behind the counter, the one who would service me with my first French phone. With soft-spoken grace, he replied “a little bit,” the sharpness added to the t’s humoring me. It was my turn and if it wasn’t obvious already that I was American, the way the next sentence came out of my mouth would surely blow my cover. “Um…je voudrais…acheter un…tele…phone pour seulement textos et d’appels… s’il vous plait.” Though it sounded more like this, “Um… jhey voodray…ahshatay ah… tehley…fone poor sullmunt textohs et dahpells… seel voo play.” The man spared me the scorn I was expecting and continued the conversation in English. Exchanges like these happen on a daily basis for Parisiens so I hope that my business mixed things up a bit for that man, even though I was convulsively running through the conversation and mentally dropkicking myself for the inconspicuous nature of my American accent. It wasn’t all bad, just incredibly humbling… and it’s only the 2nd full day! Arriving at my homestay apartment, I tried to recall three years worth of high school French classes before ringing the doorbell. But the excitement and anticipation clouded any chance of that happening. I was in for yet another humbling encounter. More on that another time. But for now, I will leave you with this small yet significant moment from last night. My kind homestay mother cooked an extremely pleasant meal, accompanied with the staple cheese and bread. It was around 19:30, the dining table at which I was sat seemed to jut from the small kitchen area into the also small living room, but it felt very fitting. Madame was explaining something with animated French hands, oblivious to the incredulous view that was procuring through the wide windows of her fifth floor apartment. The lights hadn’t been turned on yet but the slight darkness of the room accentuated the spectacle occurring in the Parisian sky. Madame’s silhouette and her Fren-glish accompanied this view like a fine aperitif paired with the appropriate meal. Things started stirring and I settled in my chair at the dining table, eyes tearing up due to dryness of keeping them open, as if blinking would dissipate the wild sight before me. The roofs of the characteristic buildings of Paris kissed the painted orange (my favorite color) sky. It’s only the 2nd full day and I’ve already been subdued by the city, what will become of me within the next couple of months? I try to answer this question week by week, check back for more about my French quest next week!